


Kin Strife of Gondor ~ The Reign of King Castamir

by Alqualisse, Elora, Hanasian



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Kin Strife of Gondor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-02-04 02:23:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12761136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alqualisse/pseuds/Alqualisse, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elora/pseuds/Elora, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanasian/pseuds/Hanasian
Summary: Of all of Gondor's long history, no chapter is as tragic or as brutal as the Kin-Strife. The Kin Strife effectively started with the death of King Valacar in the year 1432 of the Third Age and ended some 16 years later. Castamir, claiming his pure Numenorean bloodline and a descendant of the Royal line, overthrew Eldacar, the rightful heir of the throne of Gondor, but who was of mixed Gondorian and Rhovanion blood.This tale is but one of many, and tells of some of the people who got caught up in the dark and brutal civil war in Gondor. and,begins with Castamir claiming the crown of Gondor from the defeated King Eldacar.~ ~ ~This is a Gondorian tale co-written by me (Hanasian) and my wife (Elora).Unless stated otherwise in the chapter notes, the Prologue and the odd-numbered chapters were written by Hanasian, and the even-numbered chapters were written by Elora. I would also like to thank my wife Elora for her editing and taking the rough edges from my writing.





	1. Prologue ~ The Defeat of Eldacar

**Author's Note:**

> The discontent that led to the tragic Kin-Strife in Gondor was caused by the actions of Prince Valacar, son of King Rómendacil II, but the seeds were sown and began to grow long before this time. During King Rómendacil's reign, there was war with the Easterling warrior clans of Rhûn. He succeeded in developing a strong alliance with the Northmen of Rhovanion who lived to the east of Mirkwood and also suffered at the hands of the Easterlings. With their combined might and leadership, they were able to defeat the Easterlings in battle, and after their great victory, Rómendacil furthered this close friendship between Gondor and Rhovanion by sending his son Valacar to be ambassador to the court of their leader Vidugavia of Rhovanion.
> 
> Rómendacil had intended that his son should learn something of the language and culture of the Men of Rhovanion, but he could not know that Valacar would fall in love with Vidumavi, daughter of Vidugavia. They were soon wed and to them a son was born. He was named Vinitharya, but was later given the name of Eldacar when Valacar returned to Gondor with him. As the firstborn son of Valacar, Eldacar was the rightful heir to the throne of Gondor. The marriage between Valacar and Vidumavi would be the catalyst that would bring unrest in the future.
> 
> In Gondor, it was widely feared that the pure Númenórean blood of the Royal House would be lost with this mingling with the “lesser” men of the north. The men of Rhovanion were strong and fierce, but their lives withered much sooner than those of the Numenorean line and intermingling of Valacar and Vidumavi was seen by many as an unwise act. When Vidumavi died before Valacar became King of Gondor, this “weakness” was confirmed in the minds of many Gondorians of the Rhovanion blood.
> 
> Divisions in Gondor began to form and unrest stirred, mainly in Pelargir and Umbar. The discord was muted under Valacar as king, as many held hope that he would marry again to a high Gondorian woman who would bear him a Numenorean heir. But no other would be named as heir to the throne. Eldacar would secede to the Gondorian kingship as Valacar, his father had wished. So began the Kin Strife of Gondor in 1432...

**Seeds of the Kin-Strife of Gondor**

In 1432 when King Valacar died, unrest in the southern provinces spread into open rebellion with the coronation of Eldacar as King of Gondor. Fanning the embers of this unrest was Gondor’s powerful Mariners Guild based in Pelargir and led by Castamir, Master of Ships at the time of Valacar’s death. Castamir was the great grandson of King Calmacil and so could claim royal descent. Castamir’s grandfather Calimehtar was the younger brother of Minaltar, later known as King Rómendacil II. Calimehtar at the time was content in serving his brother as his Naval Commander and Master of the Mariners Guild. He maintaining Gondor’s great fleet of ships in Pelargir, served as Governor of the province of Harondor, and managed the affairs the tributary lands of Harad and the great port of Umbar. Through the line of Calimehtar, the Mariners Guild became a strong influence within the realm of Gondor.

As the line of Rómendacil had mingled itself with the “lesser” blood of the Rhovanions, Castamir presented himself as the rightful Numenorean heir. He proclaimed himself the true King of Gondor, despite Gondor’s laws of succession held that Eldacar was the rightful heir to the throne of Gondor. With Castamir’s proclamation, a rebellion in Pelargir erupted against Eldacar shortly after his coronation and it soon spread through the southern provinces to become a civil war.

For the next four years, war between Gondor’s people raged with brutality, each side convinced of their righteousness. The governers of the southern provinces of Anfalas, Belfalas, Lebennin, Harondor, and Lossarnarch declared for Castamir, while those of Ithilien, Anorien, Dol Amroth, Edhellond and the rough and hardy men who lived in the western lands of Calenardhon and Enedwaith swore allegiance to Eldacar.  Not all people in these provinces agreed with who their governors supported, and the fighting among the citizenry was grim. There were brutal raids and massacres of unarmed civilians by supporters of both sides in most provinces but after the first year, most of the dissenters had either been slain or fled to a friendly province.

The fighting had settled mostly between the armies that stood with Eldacar and Castamir and had quickly stagnated along a line across Ithilien south of Emyn Arnen to the east of the Anduin and along the River Erui to the west of the Anduin. For two years, the ships of Castamir tried relentlessly to break their line by forcing the Anduin river passage with his ships, but Eldacar held most of the siege engines and had them placed to fire on the ships from both sides of the river. Also, cross river chains and log barriers were built to impede the ships’ ability to move upstream.

It wasn’t until the beginning of 1436 that Castamir had amassed enough force to be able to attack on three fronts. Leading his army himself, Castamir forced his way over the Crossing of the Erui after twelve days of fighting and at great cost. Eldacar’s army fell back in disarray and were not able to regain their defences until they reached fortifications in the narrows between the east end of the White Mountains just south of Harlond. Castamir’s army destroyed the siege engines on the west bank of the Anduin and disabled the cross-river defences. At the same time, fierce Haradian mercenaries drove up the eastern bank of the Anduin, driving a wedge between Eldacar’s army and the river. They were able to destroy the siege engines on the east side of the Anduin, but unlike Eldacar’s army on the west side, the Ithilien army was able to regroup and counterattack the Haradrim mercenaries.

After eight days of relentless fighting, the Haradians were for the most part decimated and few of the men, most of them the Haradian leaders and Castamir’s officers, fled to the south. It was a pyric victory in Ithillen, for Castamir’s ships were now able to pass freely up the river. In Harlond, the quays were burned and the riverfront fortified, and the few remaining siege engines Eldacar had were used to bombard the approaching ships. After much damage and loss, Castamir’s ships were forced to retreat downriver. Castamir sought to continue his attack on the west side, but his men were exhausted and had suffered great loss whereas Eldacar’s defence was strong. Thus, attack foundered and the lines stagnated.

 

**Osgiliath ~ December 1436**

Eldacar stood in the great library and walked to the Dome of the Stars. He gazed into the Palantir and saw that his position had become precarious. He had few reserves of men and though a small army had come from Rhovanion to his aid, it could only help in holding the defensive line. Not advance it against the armies that waited beyond Osgiliath’s walls. He still had the fortress of Minas Anor, from where his son Ornendil commanded western armies, and the fortress Minas Ithil, from which his son Aldamir commanded the eastern armies. Eldacar trusted his sons and their commanders to do what they could to strengthen his defences in their waning hopes of holding the north of Gondor, but how could he defeat Castamir and reunite Gondor? In this his vision was unclear. He also knew this stagnant war and the lines that divided Gondor could not last forever

It was late in the evening a few days after the New Year, and Ornendil was reviewing the defensive lines near Minas Anor. The chill air from the north had laid a thick frost over all and as the steam from his breath swirled about him, he listened closely in the quiet night. Something wasn’t right. It was too quiet. He waved for his line commander.

_“Make sure the men remain watchful this night. Something is amiss.”_

The commander nodded and sent a signal down the line, but as the next signaller turned, an arrow hit him in the neck. A cry went up and the Castamirian army started to yell. They were attacking at night! Ornendil quickly ordered the archers to ready, but again an arrow took down his signaller. When his second fell and the sound of swords rang all along the front line, Ornendil realised this attack was quickly deteriorating his position. 

What he didn’t know was Castamir had spies who had infiltrated his command, and the alert was not sent to the river watch or the engines. Instead of running his river boats upstream, smaller boats that carried twelve men were sent up along the river banks. These men could disembark quickly and surprise the guards at the strongpoints. With several of these groups along both sides of the river, the Castamirians were able to cause much disruption and chaos behind Ornendil’s defensive line.

Before Ornendil could assess the situation clearly, his flank on the river was compromised. The larger ships now could move upriver and unleash a larger army into Harlond.

In the western end of the line, rugged highlanders of Lebennin managed to take the furthest stronghold which allowed men to pour in unopposed. Arrow fell among them but it was sporadic. When reports managed to find Ornendil, he realised his line of defense was now untenable.

Finding a lack of officers around him, Ornendil had to trust to unit leaders to try to organise a withdrawal from the centre of the line. But with his right flank crumbling and his left flank in Harlond already lost, time was not on his side. The assault on his communications was effective to the point that Ornendil could not reliably know if any of his commands had gotten to whom he had them sent to. Likewise, the few messages that he did receive were filled with ill news.

It was the message that the gates of Minas Anor fell to Castamirian raiders without a fight that caused Ornedil to lose hope. Suddenly, his plan to retreat into the city and prepare for siege was lost. Enough of the Raiders that had taken what was left of Harlond had gathered together and managed to get around the city walls to the gate. Some had taken cloaks and emblems from dead and captured Eldacarian soldiers and disguised themselves. Their deception worked. At first, acting like they were reinforcements for Eldacar, they were able to walk in the open gates and take control from the unsuspecting city guard. They drew in as many of their men as they could before it became known that the gate had fallen.

Gathering men to him, Ornendil had each man pass the word that they needed to assault the gates of Minas Anor. Likewise, the City Guard tried to re-take the gates from the inside, but the attacks were not coordinated and the Raiders were able to fend off both attacks.

With the gates held, it was deemed time by Castamir’s sympathisers to take down the guards at the secondary doors and open them to Castamir’s men coming up from Harlond. 

After a second attempt to storm the gates, Ornendil saw that the city was lost. With the confusion and chaos of his army on the field, they had no choice but to retreat across the Pelennor Field toward Osgiliath. 

Eldacar’s men trapped inside Minas Anor fought on, level by level into the morning, but when they were making a stand at the fourth level, the commander of the naval forces that had come up the river offered terms to Eldacar’s men. After considering the limited options, the ranking commander of Eldacar’s Minas Anor army, surrendered. The surrendering soldiers were herded into the courtyard where those who lived in the city were escorted to their homes. The soldiers who had no families, or were from outside the city, were immediately asked to swear fealty to King Castamir. Those who did were given a chance to prove their loyalty by fighting for Castamir in a penal unit. Those who would not were, along with any Rhovanions, put to death.

Word could not spread fast enough to Osgiliath of the fall of Minas Anor. Eldacar had ordered his elite Royal Guard out to reinforce Ornedil in Minas Anor, but it was too late and they could reach him. When the Highladers that broke the west end of Ornedil’s line made contact, the Royal Guard were forced to stand fast, and they set a defensive perimeter a few miles out around the gates of Osgiliath. There they were able to fend off any Castamirians who were so bold to pursue of the remnants of Ornendil’s retreating army.  With the Rhovanion Royal Guard on the forefront, the Gondorian Royal Guard aided the stragglers from Minas Anor to reach the city. After the first attack by the pursuing Castamirians to drive on to Osgiliath was stopped by the Rhovanions, they had no more strength and they retreated to set a defensive line around Minas Anor as they mopped up inside the city.

To have secured the city before the morning light was a success beyond all expectations. Castamir expected they would have to lay siege, and that would likely have taken many weeks if not months. Now, he was able to move on Osgiliath, the nation’s capital and Eldacar’s seat, much faster than he had dared hope for. Wasting no time, he sent two of the river ships onward without disembarking in hopes they could press their advantage. It was a gamble, but if they could gain East Osgiliath, Eldacar’s eastern army would be cut off and isolated.

Captain Silares took command of this force as they pushed upriver, and trusted Halvarin, his navigator to take them through. The soldiers aboard were itching to disembark, but when they heard they were the northern force, they settled and grew determined to take their objective. But like the attack on Osgiliath in Pelennor, the two ships full of men were not enough. Though they had nearly achieved surprise, a company of Aldamir’s men in Ithilien spotted the ships in the dark as they passed by.

The commander sent word to Osgiliath by their fastest two runners that an attack was imminent on the city by the river. The company was also able to attack Silares’ lead ship with burning arrows. It did little damage, but it did illuminate the two ships for a time, so the attempt at a surprise landing in East Osgiliath failed. Silares ordered the ships back to Harlond, reluctant to risk both ships and men on an attack on a prepared city.

It would be three days before another attack could be waged in Osgiliath. But the winds warmed and the cold rains made movement hard on the muddy field. Castamir’s attack ended a few days later, his men exhausted. Though the thrust failed to achieve much, it did cause Eldacar to pull his remaining forces back behind the city wall. Castamir’s men would close a ring around West Osgiliath, but would have to battle the elements of winter outside the wall of the city.

It would be another month before Castamir could attack again, for the brief warming had passed and winter fell hard a couple days later. Frigid north winds were relentless through the month of January 1437. The Rhovanions, wearing their traditional furs, managed to withstand the cold better than the Gondorians, but the snows that came with the winds were fierce. Castamir’s men froze in the fields and Eldacar’s men tried their best to stay warm in the city. There would be no fighting while the winter held.

Eldacar used the time to prepare defences, and his son Aldamir sent what men he could spare from the East Watch of Cirith Ungol to Osgiliath to help strengthen the city. Knowing that his southern reach was now untenable with the loss of Minas Anor, Aldamir anticipated Castamir would attack soon. He prepared a defensive line anchored in the east against the spur of Ephel Duath that reached for Minas Ithil, then from the city to the road.

At the crossing of the river, he fortified both sides, and to the west, he set a line along the north bank of the river. To the south he had his elite Ithilien Rangers hold the line to wait for the attack. When it came, they would harass the advancing Castamirians and fall back to Minas Ithil. Aldamir’s leadership gave the men east of the Anduin hope, if not in victory, then in strength. But Aldamir could see the dire position they were in. All he could hope for was to resist Castamir, and plan for the eventual need to flee north to Rhovanion. Eldacar was fortunate that his younger son had the foresight to make even the most rudimentary plans to evacuate.

 

**Osgiliath ~ February 1437**

Eldacar was solemn, knowing that with the thaw, an attack by Castamir was imminent. The field. still muddy with melting snow, prevented any siege engines to be brought forth. But the sun returned day after day and with it warm winds from the south. Soon the ground would dry and the fighting would erupt again. Aldamir had reported their delaying retreat had cost Castamir’s eastern army dear, but they had gathered now on the line Aldamir had set. There would be no more reinforcements coming from the east. Their only hope was to the north, and any men Rhovanion could send.

Little did Eldacar know that with little if any Gondorian presence in North Ithilien, it fell to the Rhovanions to keep the Easterling clans at bay. Not yet strong enough to launch an attack of any significance, they had increasingly turned to harassing the Rhovanion farmer, not forgetting that they had aided their enemy Gondor in their great defeat years before. Vidugavia sent word to Osgiliath that no further aid could be spared at this time. The messengers had to travel treacherous ways through Dagorlad to North Ithilien to get to East Osgiliath, and word only came late in the month.

Eldacar and his sons stood alone against the rising popularity if the Numenorean-blooded Castamir, even though he officially had no right to the crown. It was he, Eldacar, son of Valacar, son of Rómendacil II, who was rightful king of Gondor, and if he fell fighting for the crown, so be it. He gave his sons the choice of slipping away to the north to dwell with their grandmother’s kin, but each stood tall with their father, preferring death if not victory for their father’s crown. So the stage was set for the final battle.

 ~ ~ ~

**The Fall of Osgiliath ~ Late February 1437**

The first attack took place in the east. Aldamir’s line held the initial assault, and only gave way slightly to the second one. For five days he held his line, and hoped to weather the onslaught. In the west, the heavy engines that Eldacar had used against Castamir’s ships had been repaired and moved to within range of Osgiliath, and Castamir wasted no time in sending both flaming and heavy solid projectiles. Eldacar had little to use to return fire, for most of the engines had been moved south in earlier years. The few he had were aimed at the river where Castamir’s ships would eventually come.

For three days, there was no attack directly on the city. But on the night of the third day, Castamir used the tactic that worked so well in taking Minas Anor and sent small boats of men up both sides of the river. But Ornedil would not be fooled so easily a second time. At first sign, he sent the Rhovanion Guard to counter the raiders. Vilmaith led the Rhovanions toward the river. They had caught the raiders not long after they had landed, yet they fought with intense precision.

Vilmaith managed to match the raiders, but when Rhinnin was slain before her, she froze as she watched blood gush from Rhinnin’s neck as her head turned, eyes bulging and closing as she fell and bled out. It all seemed to happen so slowly in Vilmiath’s eyes. Of all the battles in the tournaments she had been in and had won, this fight was real, and it was the first death of a close friend she had experienced. The sounds of swords clashing and the yelling and the groaning seemed to pass through her slowly, yet Vilmiath could not take her eyes off Rhinnin. It was the hands of one of her Rhovanion countryman that grabbed her tunic and spun her around…

_”Vilmiath! She is dead! We have need of you!”_

He screamed as his words cut through the fog. She blinked a few times and saw him staring into her eyes when the sword struck him in the back of the head. His blood splattered over her, and she lunged with her sword, killing the attacker as the Rhovanion man fell toward her and to the ground. As if the spell was broken, Vilmiath turned and deflected a sword aimed at her neck, then pushed forth with some other Rhovanions. The battle raged until sunrise, and the light of day found Vilmiath and the remnants of her Royal Guards victorious. They prevented the raiders from getting a foothold in the city.

On the east side of the river, the raiders fared better. They had managed to defeat the Ithilien Guard that held the confluence of the Anduin and the Morgulduin, and managed to breach the line Aldamir had set in place. Their penetration was not far, and losses were heavy for the raiders, but they held their hard-won key ground. It was to be the beginning of the battle of Osgiliath.

The armies of Castamir surged toward the gates of Osgiliath, and as the projectiles of the engines rained down upon the city, they managed to bring a ram to the gates. At the same time, ships led by Silares came up river from Harlond carrying men who would land on both sides of the river. The engines Eldacar had managed to sink one ship and damage others, but most of the men were able to land on the east side. After three days, East Osgiliath had fallen, dividing Eldacar’s forces.

Aldamir tried to force his way to the city but ended up retreating to Minas Ithil. That same day, the gates of Osgiliath were broken and Castamir’s army poured into the city. After days of bloody fighting in the streets, Ornedil was forced into a pocket in the north of the city along with the Lord of Edholland and his men. He and the Lord of Edholland led a counterattack while Eldacar led the evacuation to Rhovanion. The city fell a day later, the crown prince and Edholland’s Lord captured. In the east, Aldamir fought on, and with a great push against Castamir’s army, he had his Ithilien Rangers cover their withdrawal to the north. With Osgiliath in Castamir’s hands, they were forced to make their way through Dagorlad to east Rhovanion.

Eldacar had tried to get all his Rhovanion Guard out of the city, for he knew there would be no quarter for any of them. But they were fierce and would not stand down from a fight unless directly ordered. When he took account of his Guard in Rhovanion, too many had been lost. He knew not the whereabouts Vilmiath, or the twins Vilna and Vidnavi, the shieldmaidens of Rhovanion. He had no word of their deaths, nor were they with him in his escape. Eldacar was left now in exile among his mother’s people, and Castamir had forced his kingship over all of Gondor. And if that was not bitter enough, his eldest son was now Castamir’s prisoner and it was unlikely that the usurper would suffer him to live, not with two sons of his own to see to the throne.

Word from Gondor was sparse and chaotic. Confusion reigned in those early days of defeat. Those nobles that had held loyalty to the throne scrambled north as best they could, harried all the way by Castamir’s forces for the usurper was eager to wither Eldacar’s ranks and supporters however he might. Those that survived told grim tales of vicious pogroms. The slaughter had not ended with Castamir’s victory. His thirst for power merely to a thirst for vengeance.

And so it came to be that Eldacar was alone, far from Gondor, surrounded by the battered ragtag remnants of his royal court, the remains of his loyal Gondorian Royal Guard and army, and the few remaining Rhovanion Royal Guards that had lived.


	2. The Sack of Edhellond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our tale of the Kin-Strife of Gondor opens in the immediate aftermath of Osgiliath's fall and Eldacar's flight to Rhovanion.

**Edhellond ~ March 1437**  
  
  
How was this possible, Amarwen wondered. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair had been brushed until its ebony lengths glowed and then set into a high braid that fell over one shoulder to her waist. She had donned Edholland's colours in a dress of rich gold velvet but Amarwen saw none of this for her thoughts were scattered, elsewhere.  
  
Osgiliath had burned. The Dome of Stars cracked and charred. The Master Stone lost in the Anduin. The city itself sacked, its people slaughtered in the streets if they could not manage to flee for their lives. Soldiers going door to door, street to street. That such a thing was possible to do in the nation's capitol was a shock in itself. That it had been done to them by their own people...that was an anathema to Amarwen.  
  
And where was father? Alive? Dead? Prisoner and if so for how long? He'd been with Eldacar when the seige of Osgiliath had begun and there had been no word of his fate now that the city had fallen. Her father, the king and his sons? Where were they all in this brutal carnage? Dead? Hiding? Prisoner? No one knew in this chaos. A chill ran through her blood and she shivered as a tap sounded at her door. In the mirror, Amarwen saw her mother slip through her door and so Amarwen swept  her fear and her sorrow into a firm grip. For her mother's sake. Since the tidings of Osgiliath's fall had reached them in Edholland, her mother had not slept nor ate. She was pale as a ghost and in her eyes was dreadful fear. Amarwen rose tand crossed her bedroom to take her mother into her arms. This woman had always been Amarwen's haven in a storm. Now, it fell to her to be the same.  
  
Her mother leaned into Amarwen's embrace for a long moment and then collected herself up. She was quivered like a leaf but her jaw was clenched. She, too, had dressed formally to receive the men below. She had added her circlet, a clear symbol that she too was descended from a line of kings. Perhaps Hyarmendacil's blood would be enough to give those waiting below pause for thought. Perhaps. If they were too much the usurper's creatures then it was unlikely. Such men cared not for the line of kings in truth.  
  
 _"They are waiting,"_ her mother said through her tense jaw, voice strained.  
  
Amarwen's first response was to let them wait longer still but that would not serve them well. They needed to secure Father's release before all else. Hostage negotiations must commence at once.  
  
She gathered her mother's hands in her own, _"Then let us begin."_  
  
Down to the Great Hall they went, arm in arm. The household staff were silent, fearful. For the men waiting within were hardly guests. Guests did not arrive swathed in armour and gripping their weapons, the stink of a sacked city still thick on their charred cloaks. Guests did not pound on the doors and demand entry on pain of death.  
  
Their Chamberlain met them at the doors to the Great Hall with pleading eyes, a silent plea for what he had begged them to do only yesterday - to flee as so many were. To leave Edhellond and its people to the usurper and those he would replace them with. To meet the same foul treatment as that which Osgiliath had reaped. No, her mother had declared and Amarwen agreed with her wholeheartedly. They would stand. They would weather the storm. They would secure Father's release and negotiate a peace that would protect Edhellond and its people.  
  
 _"These...these men, they are-"_ he began, stumbling over his words for no one expected the usurper to have turned his eyes so swiftly to Edhellond.  
  
 _"I know what they are,"_ her mother answered the Chamberlain, finding a store of steely resolve conserved and shepherded for just this.

Their retainers must see them staunch, unbowed, determined to stay the course no matter how fearful they were. There there could be no relenting until Father was secured. The Chamberlain bowed his head, turned away  and, with a sigh, pushed open the doors to admit them into their hall.  
  
The first thing Amarwen noted was their number. There had to be at least ten men gathered. All wore mail, some plate and no few weapons. Hard travel stained their gear, and that was not all. She did indeed see smoke and blood and a fresh wave of anger began to bubble. These were not men sent to negotiate. Osgiliath had been sacked by grim, stoney faced men such as these and there had been no measure of decency or mercy there if half the tales they heard were correct.

The men had been gathered together, quietly talking to themselves but now they swung about. Most Amarwen did not know or recognise save for two of their number. The Master of the Mariner's Guild had been a frequent guest at this very hall over the years. He had been a staunch ally of her father within the Guild. She had heard her parents discuss him of late but until now she had not been able to believe that he had declared for the usurper. He had made of himself their foe. The Guild Master had the decency, at least, to incline his head to her mother in deference to her position.  At his shoulder stood his son, Halvarin. His expression was taut and she could not tell what he thought as his eyes flickered over her and her mother. A muscle feathered in his jaw as his gaze returned to her and it took all her restraint to hold her position by her mother. The man that gazed to her now, she almost did not recognise him for the man she knew him to be. He was both familiar and strange to her both.  
  
 _"Your Grace,"_ the Guild Master intoned as they closed.  
  
Her mother said nothing as she stared at the Guild Master. As if she somehow perceived the tidings he bore. The tension mounted rapidly until Amarwen could remain quiet no longer.  
  
 _"The Lord of Edholland, what is his fate?"_  
  
A blunt question to be sure, but Amarwen saw little to be gained with diplomacy now. These men had come from war, for war. Of that she was all but certain.  
  
 _"Alive,"_ Halvarin answered and at that her mother sagged on her arm.  
  
The Guild Master stepped forward so quickly that Amarwen had little choice but to surrender her mother to him. Her teeth ground as she watched him assist her mother to a chair. The other men swiftly gathered around it and Amarwen made to force herself through their press to her mother's side. Yet as she did his, Halvarin's hand on her arm drew her back and away.

  
_"Why did he ride out for Eldacar?"_ Halvarin hissed in her ear.  
  
Amarwen's gaze did not shift from the knot of men crowding her mother but her tone was ice, _"Because treason holds no appeal in these halls."_  
  
 _"I am not a traitor!"_  
  
 _"Tell me Halvarin, were the women and children of Osgiliath traitors?"_  
  
 _"Osgiliath chose to fight, even though they had no hope of prevailing. It was foolish. Reckless. Had they surrendered, none of it would have been necessary."_  
  
 _"And what aspect of wholesale slaughter is ever necessary to you,"_ she returned, her fury mounting.

Amarwen's attention moved back to the men gathered around her mother. They were gathered so tightly she could not even see her.  
  
 _"Edhellond will be next. Open the harbour for pity's sake. It need not come to this. Not here,"_ Halvarin implored her heart felt cold and heavy.

She shook her head slowly from side to side, " _The harbour will only open when my father is safely returned to Edhellond._ _It is as simple as that."_  
  
Beside her, Halvarin pushed out a sorrowful sigh, _"Nothing is simple any more, Ami."_  
  
The plaintive note in his voice pulled her eyes to his and she was struck, as had so often occurred in the past, by their colour. Like the storm tossed sea, they were, blue and grey both depending on how the light hit them. There had been a night not so long ago that she had gazed into them and they had been laughing. Filled with joy and no small degree of mischief as they danced in this very hall. She still remembered the feel of his arms around her, sure and steady, when they had slipped away to the gardens that night.  
  
 _"Perhaps you are right,"_ she sighed, for his merriment was gone from his eyes just as the joy had vanished from her heart.  She wondered if ever it would return.  
  
In a way, this was no more Halvarin's fault than it was hers. Their fathers had declared for rival kings and one had prevailed over the other. Amarwen washed a hand over her face but before anything more could be said, her mother rose to her feet and began to push her way out from the men around her.  
  
Amarwen's eyes widened at the terrible wrath upon her mother's face. She made to step forward but Halvarin caught her elbow as the men around her mother closed again.  
  
 _"Never. This house, nor Edhelland, will bow neither head nor knee to the Usurper!"_  
  
Her statement rang through the hall.  
  
 _"A terrible mistake, your Grace,"_ Halvarin's father declared ominously, _"Edhelland is even more vulnerable than Osgiliath. It is indefensible._ _You fail to comprehend, though I do not know how, that you are alone in your opposition to the King. All the others are dead or have fled fled."_  
  
 _"Castamir is no more King than I."_  
  
 _"This intransigence is why your husband will die and your people starve. How long before they turn on themselves, or you?"_  
  
Again Amarwen tried to go to her mother but Halvarin held her fast.  
  
 _"Do not,"_ he warned and at that the doors opened, pushed in by the men of the household.  
  
From the Chamberlain to those that tended the kitchen and stables, some of them armed with no more than their fists, all with a frenzied, desperate light in their eyes.  
  
 _"Unhand our Lady and quit this place,"_ the Chamberlain said, lifting his silvered chin.  
  
Amarwen had never seen him so wroth before. This was a man that had tossed her on his knee.  
  
 _"Have them stand down,"_ Halvarin pleaded in a low voice, _"It need not end like this."_  
  
But already it was too late for one of the men by Amarwen's mother seized her roughly and threw her to his fellows as he cleared his sword. The great hall filled with the terrible scrape of steel clearing scabbards and this sent those in the doorway flying forwards, intent on casting these men out. But, valiant as they were, they were no match for the men they sought to drive forth. Horrified, Amarwen was momentarily transfixed until Halvarin pulled her away.  
  
 _"Hide,"_ he hissed at her, urgent, even as he drew his sword.  
  
She heard her mother cry out, **_"RUN AMARWEN! RU-"_**  
  
A strangled sound and then nothing as Halvarin's father turned to where she stood on the other side of his son. Through his legs she could see her mother's form, prone on the flagstone floor. An outstretched hand, limp. Blood pooling. Fingers weakly twitching and then still...and the drip of her mother's blood from the Guild Master's sword to the floor. The horror paralysed Amarwen where she stood, as if the stones had reached up to seize her feet.  
  
 _"Bring the girl here, lad,"_ his father bade him.

Halvarin's arm around her elbow twitched, tightening at his father's instructions. She blinked at the absence of tone in the Guild Master's voice. It was as stark and bleak as his face and that realisation broke through Amarwen's shock. This man would kill her with the same compunction he had meted out to her mother. She could hear those still fighting towards the doors. Cries of anger, fear, pain and outrage fading as they cut through the largely unarmed retainers like a hot knife through butter. When Halvarin's grip faded on her elbow, she slipped free, collected up her heavy velvet skirts and did as her mother had bade her to do with her last breath. Amarwen ran.  
  
Running was something she had always been good at, skirts or not. She was fleet as fox and she knew her family halls far better than those pursuing her. Amarwen did not dare look back at those pounding after her.  Their weapons and armour weighed far more heavily that her skirts and unlike them, she could get to the harbour and a ship without fear of being harried.  Once she had the wind in her sails she would elude them no matter how fast their horses were. Whilst she slipped through the streets of her childhood home, those pursuing her were not so fortunate. 

As fortune would have it, she was on the water with the tide before the Guild Master and his men gained the docks. Unlike her, they had been stalled and waylaid at every pass by the people of Edhellond angered by the fresh blood bright on their blades and the murder in their faces. And if they thought they'd appropriate a ship to pursue her, the actions of Edhellond's Harbour Master put paid to that.  
  
Amarwen whipped towards the sea with the ships of Edhellond aflame at her back. It was a sight terrible and stunning to behold. Back on the docks, Halvarin pressed his arm over his mouth and nose to keep the smoke at bay.  
  
 _"Every last ship, boat and dinghy,"_ his father raged, appalled as any mariner would be, _"These people are mad!"_  
  
Halvarin said nothing, his eyes tracking the small sail of the one ship that had slipped away. Amarwen was doomed now, he thought to himself with a growing sense of helpless and overwhelming despair. She'd be a fugitive now, a traitor to be hunted down. Castamir would show no mercy. Assuming she somehow managed to land the tiny boat safely. It was not made to withstand the sea and she could not risk hugging the coast where she might be seen and apprehended.  
  
He pushed out a sigh and then returned his attention to their immediate surrounds. The smoke was thickening and the people of Edhellond had proven themselves wroth. Whilst Amarwen's father had taken most of the men at arms with him to Osgiliath, there was no telling how emboldened the townsfolk would be once the smoke gave them cover. Particularly once word of events at the hall reached them. That would not take long for they had been too preoccupied with pursuing Amarwen to ensure none lived to speak of it. And so, in that sense, Amarwen had saved a good many lives this day with her flight for they lacked the number to return to the hall and quell the burgeoning violence brewing around them in the port.  
  
 _"We should be away, Father,"_ he said, _"There is nothing to be gained here now."_  
  
His father muttered an oath under his breath as he turned on his heels.  
  
As they strode back to where they had left their horses, Halvarin asked what was likely unwise, _"Was it necessary to kill the Lady of Edhellond?"_  
  
His father rolled his shoulders, _"I had hoped that she might see reason. For Edhellond, for her daughter."_  
  
 _"What fate the Lord of Edholland now?"_ he asked as his father grimaced.  
  
 _"For the King to decide,"_ his father answered, _"But I doubt it will be a merciful one."_  
  
 _"And Amarwen?"_ he pressed, at which his father turned about to study him.  
  
He lifted a hand to set upon Halvarin's shoulder, _"The kindest thing, lad, is to hope the sea claims the lass before the King does."_  
  
By the time they had ridden back to Minas Anor, his father's words proved true. The new King had swept through the court of Gondor like a bloody scythe. The dead included the Lord of Edhellond and Eldacar's eldest son Ornendil, both executed within hours of their having ridden out for Edhellond. Dead by the time they had gained Edhellond's halls. He had told Amarwen that her father was alive. Just another thing she could never forgive him for. Their deaths had not been easy and an uneasy pall hung over the city that Halvarin rode through.


	3. Chapter 3 - Dol Amroth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amarwen's death...one of so many....

**Dol Amroth – 1437**

 

Amarwen paused in the hall before the door that led to the study of the Prince of Dol Amroth. He had been a steady and true friend of her father, their bond extend well beyond her birth. He had welcomed her into his hall without hesitancy, despite the fact that she had arrived unannounced and expecting Castamir’s fleet to descend upon her any moment now. And yet, that had not come to pass. Indeed, within the Prince’s halls one could be forgiven for not knowing what had befallen Gondor.

Despite Castamir’s ascension to the throne, the King’s gauntleted fist had not fallen so heavily upon Dol Amroth as it had on Edhellond. For all his proclivities and failings, Castamir was not so reckless as that. His emissaries had come to Dol Amroth armed to the teeth with proclamations of good faith but the Prince had not been gulled. Or so she hoped. Were she mistaken, these last few steps would be the last she would take of her own choosing. Of that she was sure.

She was aware that she had been declared a traitor for the burning of Edhellond’s fleet. Never mind that it had been a precaution against a force of armed, violent men sent by the King to disturb Edhellond’s peace. And so here she was, delaying before the Prince’s door wondering whether friend could remain friend in this tumult. She smoothed her palms over her borrowed garb and knocked on the thick oak door. When bidden, she entered to find the Prince at his desk. It was late afternoon and the hearth was well alight, intent on defeating the rapidly approaching dusk. As she closed the door behind her, Amarwen saw the Prince’s dark head lift. His line was woven with the Eldar and it showed in his features and character, or so she thought.

She could not know him as her father had. Indeed, he had such an advantage of years that he could have been her father. As if he somehow guessed the thrust of her thoughts, the Prince smiled at her fondly. _”Like yesterday it seems,”_ he remarked, _”When your mother set you in my arms.”_

This came as she offered him the courtesy he was owed. Amarwen smiled as she rose from her curtsy and the Prince pushed aside whatever he had been reading to select a fresh sheet of parchment. He folded his hands over it as she approached his desk, _”Our ruse, it would appear, has succeeded.”_

Amarwen nodded, grateful, for she had arrived without so much as the nearest crumb of a coherent plan. The Prince, however, had not been nearly so tardy. No sooner had her sorry tale tumbled out of her had he swung into action. Before she knew it, he was issuing orders to his most trusted men to take her battered dinghy back out and beach it with shreds of her sodden yellow velvet caught in the ruined timbers. If she was honest, Amarwen had been sceptical that the ploy would work. The Prince had proved wiser, as might be expected of a man that had been dealing with the White City since before she had been born.

 _”I am dead, then?”_ she asked for good measure and the Prince nodded.

 _”Quite. Lost at sea…and stripped of your titles for good measure,” he_ replied and she sighed. Still, what had she expected given the turn of events at court?

 _”I am most grateful for your assistance, your Grace,_ ” she answered and the Prince gestured at a nearby seat.

_”And so, now we arrive at what is to follow. You are welcome to remain here.”_

If Castamir found she was alive and being sheltered in Dol Amroth, his restraint would end and Dol Amroth’s fate would be far worse than that of Edhellond. Amarwen shook her head from side to side, her hair shifting with her movement.

_”I could not imperil your people in such a fashion, your Grace.”_

His eyes glinted as he studied her for a long moment and then he reached for a fresh quill, ” _Very well, safe passage to Rhovanion it is. I will provide the necessary bone fides to assure you are received by Eldacar’s people.”_

Rumor had it that Castamir had already begun to send his spies north, seeking to infiltrate his foe’s people. Stragglers, those that had waited before setting out, were now met with steel until they could vouch for themselves. Even Amarwen, the daughter of the man who had been executed by Castamir with Eldacar’s own son, would not be assured of a welcome among the rightful King’s people now. That, she very much thought, had been one of the Usurper’s objectives. Even if he obtained no information of any use out of Rhovanion, what better than to have his opponents supporters picked off in this fashion.

 _”It is not to Rhovanion I would go,”_ Amarwen said and the Prince’s head lifted. He hoisted a dark brow at her and she pressed on, _”Minas Anor.”_

 _“To what end?”_ he asked and, when she did not answer, set his quill down again and sat back in his chair, his expression now grave and stern.

Amarwen drew a deep breath, _”Surely you understand that my first thoughts cannot be for my safety, your Grace.”_

The Prince grimaced at that, _”Your fate, should you be discovered, will be grim indeed.”_

 _“How fortunate that Amarwen of Edhellond is already dead,”_ she answered, lifting her chin as she did so.

At that the Prince shook his head at her, _”I had wondered why you had cut your hair.”_

His comment made her reach for her shortened lengths. It fell past her shoulders still, but only to the middle of her back. As was proper, as was necessary for what she intended to do. Only noble born ladies could afford to wear their hair as long as she had and Amarwen of Edhellond rested in a cold, watery grave.

 _“I will not be able to protect you in Minas Anor,”_ he warned and Amarwen’s gaze did not waver.

_”I doubt there is any who might shelter us from what is to come, your Grace.”_

_“Again, Amarwen, I ask for the sake of your dear parents who cannot, what is your purpose in this?”_ Her eyes shifted then, dropped to the Prince’s wide desk of dark polished wood and the blank parchment upon it for a moment. Her parents would be appalled at what she was enterprising. And yet it had been them to raise her with the firm belief that her people always came first. Always. Amarwen drew in a deep breath, clasped her hands in her lap and returned her attention to the Prince.

 _”I seek to serve my people, your Grace.”_ The Prince’s mouth pressed into a straight, thin line as he shook his head slowly. She thought he would refuse her then and there and wondered what might follow if he did. Instead, though, he straightened in his chair again.

_”What would you have of me, Lady Amarwen.”_

_“A letter of recommendation…for a scullery maid.”_ He considered her for a moment, pressed out a long breath and then inked his quill. Amarwen didn’t dare move an inch nor make a sound as the Prince wrote. Nothing that might cause him to reconsider. _”What is this scullery maid’s name,”_ he inquired, head bowed.

 _”Marece,”_ Amarwen replied, thinking of the wife of Edhellond’s head cook. Strong, unflinching and brave Marece had been. Indomitable. Assured, right up until the moment the wasting sickness had claimed her three years ago now. Marece had known she as going to die but she had faced it on her own terms all the same. Amarwen hoped she could live up to Marece’s legacy of fierce, enduring valour.

Soon enough, Amarwen found herself sitting in the back of an empty cart bound for Minas Anor with scarcely more than her recommendation letter tucked into her worn, humble clothing. She would have to shed everything she had become accustomed to in order to succeed. Her hair and name, the fine clothing of a noblewoman were just the beginning. Behind her, the driver of the cart set it in motion. It rocked back and forth briefly before it started off proper.

Watching from a window, she saw the Prince. His misgivings had not abated but she could say nothing for to assure him would give him information that might bring Dol Amroth into peril and she could not do that. Would not do that. There must be one safe haven yet in Gondor and the Prince had ever been a friend and ally to Edhellond. Amarwen lifted her arm to bid him farewell, uncertain if she would ever see him again. She glimpsed him raise a hand to her just before the cart rolled out of his courtyard proper.

Beyond the walls, a stiff breeze held dominion. It made her pull her thin shawl tighter around her shoulders to little effect. Shivering, she set her teeth and made no comment on it. Being cold, hungry, tired were simple facts of life now. Unremarkable and mundane. And there were other things to consider…such as how best to begin once she gained the White City. She shifted closer to hang her arms over the back of the bench the driver sat upon and set to asking him all he knew of Minas Anor. Had to start somewhere.


End file.
